We have come through
by Marge Piercy
The faintest paring of moon rises
tonight just barely silvering the mounds
of snow that used to be cars, fenceposts,
bushes, a wheelbarrow perhaps.
The world has become anonymous
everything painted and padded white
the road the same as the field it ran
through, the tallest bushes bowed.
We are stuck here without exit,
barricaded into silence. The wind
that pelted the windows opaque
that broke the white fir at its base
that pushed tiny crystal knives
sideways and froze birds on their
perches has slunk away to sea
where it harries ships and gulls.
We will dig out. We will clean up.
A plow will come and recreate
the asphalt road. Town will wake
into lights and people will meet
and ask, how was the storm for you?
How long were you without power?
Trees down? We the survivors
cautiously examine our luck.
Copyright © 2013 by Marge Piercy.